The Dancer (Sonnet)
"Dance," she said, and nothing else mattered.
Undulating to a flowing rhythm,
The soles of her feet bleeding and tattered.
Never offbeat, she moves with precision.
She gracefully twirls then drops to the ground,
Jeté off the floor with a mighty leap,
Cascading in air, swirling around,
Then crumbles in a sprawling heap.
If knees give way and old bones creak,
If her supple muscles submit to decay,
If energy wanes and leaves her weak,
What happens to the dancer if dance goes away?
As graceful movements let her breathe,
A dancer must dance till she lies beneath.
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"The Dancer" is a sonnet, with an art piece using acrylic on a 12x12 stretched canvas.
This poem was part of my Senior Project, which was completed in April 2018. Thanks so much for reading!!
Please vote, comment, and don't hesitate to request or suggest ideas!
Always, Eileen.
YOU ARE READING
Tiny Pieces of Soul
PoetryThe words I write are best defined As tiny pieces of soul Trapped within my troubled mind An ache I can't console This is a simply collection of poems that bare my heart and mind and soul.
